Murder of Love
by Rhys1
Summary: Slash. It seems there are many hands at work in the destruction of Remus and Severus' relationship.
1. Fireside

Disclaimer: Not mine, JKR's.

Warnings: Mention (briefly) of rape, parental abuse, and other nasty things. These boys are a little fucked up.

* * * * *

He never noticed me sitting there, when he'd get back from those little…interludes with _him_. I don't think he'd have noticed if Voldemort himself were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, so what's one brooding friend? His oblivion allowed me a great deal of latitude…I could stare, and stare, and stare, and he wouldn't know the difference.

Tonight is no different than usual. He drifts in with that dreamy expression that means he's been doing a hell of a lot more than studying. I watch him idly push his too-long fringe of honey brown out of those too-pretty eyes, glancing blankly at the fireplace and entirely missing me, sitting in one of the over-stuffed armchairs. He clutches his books to his side, and lets out a long sigh, leaning briefly against the portrait hole. His normally lush lips appear almost swollen in the flickering fire light, crimson stained with guilty pleasures.

And now he's pushing away, trotting across the room, heading up the stairs to the dorms, his robes flickering raggedly at his ankles. I watch him go, feeling my heart screaming at me, until he disappears around a corner. And then I turn my own eyes back to the fire, and wonder what I'm going to do about the fact that while I certainly am starting to hate Remus Lupin for being involved with a boy who had assisted in my rape some five years previously, I also seem to be falling in love with him.

There's always been something about me and people I just can't have. And if I'm being completely honest with myself, Remus may just be a convenient substitute for James. It's hard to tell…I didn't think twice about him, except as a good friend, until he decided to throw himself into that smug bastard's arms. That slimy, vicious, sneaky, vile bastard…but do I care? Or do I just want to screw my friend stupid to forget a pair of warm brown eyes beneath a mop of untamable black hair?

Sometimes it really, really sucks to be me.

"Sirius?" And I was thinking _Remus_ was oblivious…I don't even notice Peter come downstairs and perch on the chair across from me.

"Yeah, Pete?" I ask tiredly. I've been waiting down here for hours…it must be gone midnight by now.

"Waiting for Remus again?" He asks the question softly, and I pull myself from my inner turmoil to give him a sharp glance.

To say that I never thought much about Peter Pettigrew was a bit of an understatement. Sure, I like the kid, he's sweet and always good for a laugh, but I've never been quite sure why both Remus and James keep telling me he's actually pretty smart. I mean, yeah, becoming an Animagus at 13 is a pretty amazing feat, but I always sort of passed it off as dumb luck. I mean, he has to work so _hard_ at everything else, how could he possibly have brains under that girlish cascade of strawberry blonde curls?

But James never noticed me waiting for Remus. And here Peter obviously has. I look into those pale, pale green eyes and see something there I had never noticed…or maybe dismissed. A gleaming intelligence and a sort of empathic melancholy. I realize I want to talk to him, explain, and maybe ask his advice. It's a stupid impulse-- Pettigrew the confidant?--but still, I'm tired, and I find myself opening my mouth before I can stop myself.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You do this every time he goes out?" Peter tilts his moonish face as he talks to me.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Why?"

"I'm worried," I answer, and it's partially true. No, it's wholly true, I _am_ worried. Snape is bad news; it's only a matter of time before he breaks Remus' heart, and worse.

"Worried." Peter rolls the word around his mouth, tastes it, then spits it back out. "No, it's more than that, isn't it?"

"No." My reply is sullen, childish. I forget my previous urge to spill my guts, and find myself crossing my long arms in front of my chest.

"Want me to tell you what I think it is?" Peter smiles kindly at me, and I hate it. _Him_, smiling kindly at _me!_ I'm not the overweight, desperately unpopular one! And for a moment I forget that he's my friend, someone I've shared countless thoughts with, countless pranks with, and I just hate him for his too-sharp eyes.

"No, I don't really want to hear _what_ you think, Wormtail."

"I think you're jealous."

I sit up, ramrod straight and angry. Some of it must have flashed in my face, because Peter flinches back suddenly, biting nervously on his delicate lower lip. _This_ is the Peter I know, shining through his momentarily wise exterior. "Well, I guess that shows how far off the deep end you've gone. What do I possibly have to be jealous of?"

"Because he's happy. With someone, you know." A trace of nervousness creeps into Peter's voice, but he forges gamely on. "And you're not."

"Do you even _know_ anything about Severus Snape?" I ask him acidly.

"A bit," he admits. "Remus talks to me about him, sometimes."

"I mean, besides what an obviously _biased_ source tells you."

He shrugs. "Not much, no."

"Then don't open your mouth when you don't know what you're talking about. Snape is _evil_, has been since he was a kid. Do you know he came to this school knowing more Dark spells than practically anyone else? Even more than most of the kids in Slytherin?" The boy was probably born and bred to be a Dark wizard…I know nothing about his family, but some of the stuff I had heard being bandied about by other students in his year…

"I didn't know that." Peter's answer is soft, subdued, but I can see he's still not convinced. Of course, he would stick up for Remus…he practically idolizes the other boy.

"He's also done some pretty nasty stuff while he's been here, to other kids." I bite off any details that might have come spilling out of me. "He's going to hurt Remus, I know he is. Him and that Malfoy…they're planning something, something bad, I'm sure. Why else would he be interested in Remus?"

"Maybe because he really cares about him?" Peter throws the thought out carelessly, and I resist the urge to slap some sense into him.

"Bullshit. That black snake doesn't care about anybody but his precious Malfoy."

"Sirius, in case you haven't noticed, Remus is an intelligent, kind, and actually pretty good looking bloke. Why is it so hard to believe that someone might be interested in that?" Peter sounds like he's explaining something to a child, and I glare at him.

"Look, I know all that. But Snape's not the type that appreciates those things…I'm the only-" I cut myself off, angry at how carelessly I've revealed my other, more confused motives.

"No, you're not the only one who recognizes that, as you would know if you opened your eyes to someone other than James. There're several other people who are quite appreciative of our Mr. Moony, Snape just happens to be the one that caught his fancy back." Peter sighs, leaning back in his chair, looking at me with quiet sympathy. How could I have underestimated him so badly?

"Peter, you just don't get it. It's not about me," I try to explain to him, covering my embarrassment. "It's about Remus. Snape…he's just not a good person. Jesus, you've seen his friends, those other Slytherins…they're the worst in that House! Malfoy, Goyle, Rosier, LeStrange…how many other students have they hurt, and covered it up…? You just don't know, Peter!"

His eyes dart down to where his hands are clasped together in his lap, those strange eyes that are almost colorless, like bath water with just a tiny touch of green. "I do know, Sirius. They…they scare the bloody hell out of me…but I don't think Snape's like that. From what Remus has said-"

"_Fuck_ what Remus has said," I snarl, leaning forward. "He's been totally fooled by that arse. _I'm_ not going to let him get away with it."

"What do you mean?" Peter casts his eyes back up at me again, and I can read the fear there. Good. It's about time somebody figured out that Sirius Black is more than just a pretty face and a quick tongue. I'm going to protect Remus, whether he likes it or not.

"I mean, I'm going to _do_ something…"

* * * * *

There's something blank about Gavin Crabbe that makes him endlessly easy to be around. We sit together in the common room, me staring fixedly at the portrait hole, him gazing mindlessly down at a half-filled piece of parchment. He's been examining that same piece of parchment for the past three quarters of an hour. Gavin is probably the least demanding of all my friends, and at this point in time, I need the blessed undemandingness of him.

Ever since my Severus had…broken up with me? No, it was something far more violent than that. Broken my heart? I know most of the other students are firmly convinced I don't have one, but the steady pulse of blood in my ears is a good indicator that I do. Still, it's not broke, because I know I'll get him back. The simpering Gryffindor can't hold his interest forever, and when Severus is tired of him, I'll be waiting. Tried my patience? That's closer…I hate having to wait for anything, let alone the person who completes me.

Severus never could figure me out. He thinks that our relationship started with love and ended with pain and indifference. I didn't love him at first; I befriended him out of a keen sense of self-preservation. At twelve I had been slight, and I was quick enough to make clever comments, not quick enough to dodge the punches that followed. So naturally I surrounded myself with larger boys. Gerald Goyle was one of those boys, and easy enough to acquire; his father and mine were business associates and friends. Gavin Crabbe is another of my protectors, huge though only fourteen. Severus had naturally drawn me; he towered over the other first years, and with his swarthy skin and scowling features he was incredibly intimidating for an eleven year old. Perfect for my purposes, younger than me, and therefore easier to control.

It wasn't until his third year, my fourth that I realized quite how perfect he was for me. For me, not for my purposes, not for my protection, but for me. It wasn't much longer until I realized I was in love with him, but it took me the rest of the year to be able to deal with it. Lucius Malfoy does _not_ fall in love, I told myself, despite all evidence to the contrary. Poor Severus went through several months of discomfort and indecision as I ignored him utterly, trying to tell myself I didn't need him the same way I needed air.

That summer, he spent a month with me at the manor.

My father hated him, of course. He referred to him almost continuously, as 'the little rat you dragged home'. In front of him. But Severus, despite that wonderful predilection for victimization, would simply stare at him with those fierce black eyes until Father said he something else to do, somewhere else to be. I think it was that marvelous dichotomy that made him so fascinating. It was also terribly flattering that he would only let _me_ treat him horribly.

That summer was simply amazing. We were like one person, we never left the other's side. We slept in the same bed, ate together, rambled the dusty length of my ancestral home together, fucked like minks whenever the opportunity presented itself, which it often did. I loved feeling him up under the table during any of the formal dinners we had with the rest of my family; he'd turn the most delightful shade of dusty rose, and brush feebly at my hand.

And oh, how he loved me to hurt him, and I adored obliging him. He never came so hard as the first time I used the knife. We'd lie in bed for hours, and I'd kiss along his healing scabs and fresh wounds, marveling in the taste of his blood. "These mean you belong to me," I'd whisper to him, and he'd purr under me like some great panther, and nod languidly.

Lately, I've been going absolutely mad without him. I can't sleep without sneaking into his bedroom to make sure he's there, and not out with his whore. If he's gone, I toss endlessly in my bed, my entire body filled with minute tensions twisting me this way and that. He ignores me in the Great Hall now, sitting with Gavin or Nickolai more often than not, sending lovelorn glances at his little fling. I have to tell myself it's a fling.

He finally comes back, tonight, beautiful shoulder-length ebony silk tangled and curled around his flushed face. His dark eyes slide over to me, then onto Gavin, before he firms his mouth into a thin line and stalks past us and down the stairs. I used to make him look like that. I used to paste his hair to his face with sweat and come and slick saliva from sloppy kisses.

Suddenly I can't stand sitting still any longer, and I leap to my feet, pacing the length of the common room. Gavin stopped staring at his parchment when Severus entered, and now he gazes numbly into the waiting darkness that leads down into the dorms. I'm not the only one who suffers from his absence. The younger boy worships Severus like a god, hangs on his every word, comes to him whenever he has those _urges_. But all of a sudden Severus doesn't have time for his own House anymore.

"Gavin," I hiss, gratified when the boy pulls his eyes from darkness, focuses their mud-brown on me.

"What?"

"Does Severus ever…talk…to you anymore?"

"Um, sometimes." The boy thinks, his broad forehead wrinkling. He's really rather stupid, but I suppose he means well. _Sometimes._

"What does that mean?" I probe patiently, folding myself up into a chair nearer him.

"I mean…well, when I can get him to, but not as much as he used to. It's getting kind of…"

"Kind of what, Gavin?"

His voice drops into a guilty whisper, "Hard not to do it."

I nod in understanding, steepling my fingers under my chin. Severus had told me about Gavin shortly after the boy's first year: it seems that he had been killing stray cats before he started at Hogwarts, and still did, sometimes, on his summer breaks. Occasionally a dog. Severus had tried to discourage the behavior in him, and had apparently had some success, but the urges often got worse during times of stress or periods when he wasn't in contact with his friends. The boy had an absolutely horrific home life, to hear tell. Of course, Gavin expected me to know everything about it, he knew what lay between Severus and I.

"Why don't you then?" I ask smoothly. I have to admit, my motives aren't all pure; while I think this might be an excellent way to draw back Severus' attention back to his own House, it also has a certain entertainment factor to it. And those with _needs_ like Gavin's can make the best tools.

"Oh, I can't," he whispered again, and there was something precious in the way his entire face was infused with deep shame. Quite beautiful, actually.

"But if Severus really didn't want you to, wouldn't he be talking to you about it?"

"I shouldn't," he said again, eyes cast on the floor.

"Mmm," I murmur neutrally. "Perhaps things would be easier if Severus were around more often."

"Yeah," Gavin agrees, and his face takes on a mournful quality. "But he's with that Remus now. He doesn't…"

My god, I think the boy's actually on the verge of tears. I feel my lips curving up in a smile as I lean forward. "Maybe," I say, reaching out to lightly stroke the boy's cheek. "Maybe there's something we can do about that…"


	2. Silver Tongue

It's dark and it's fucking freezing, sitting out here on a broomstick below a cracked window, eavesdropping on my friend and his lover. Thanks god it's not raining on top of everything else, though those clouds misting over the moon are getting disturbingly solid and heavy. I flex my fingers against my forearms, the sleeves of my robes doing very little to keep them warm. Three hours I've been sitting out here, leaning against the frigid stone every now and then so I don't go tumbling off my broom. They talked for awhile about classes and other inconsequentials when they first met up, then there was a period of quiet that I'm pretty sure meant they were snogging. I didn't look in; I hardly need the sight of Snape glomming on Remus to haunt my dreams, thank you very much.

They began talking again late in hour two, but too quietly for me to really be able to hear. I sat there for awhile twisting in frustration until I remembered something from Charms.

"_Clamorius,_" I whispered, tapping my wand against the window frame oh-so-lightly. Remus' and Snape's voices echoed clearly in my ears, and I grinned to myself in triumph.

And now I stretch my fingers, cramping from the cold, but I can't leave. It's getting _way_ too interesting.

"Please, Remus. You know you can trust me…why won't you with this?" Snape's voice was soft, persuasive but not pleading.

"Sev, I _will_, I just can't now…please be patient!" The pleading absent from Snape's voice is present in Remus', and I frown. He only does that when he knows he's wrong. Otherwise, he just turns to stone, gives you this horribly _long-suffering_ face while you accuse him of whatever it is he doesn't feel responsible for.

"I have been patient. I will continue to be patient. But an absence every month for three days…" Snape trails off, and Remus says nothing. "Don't think I haven't noticed when it happens," the Slytherin adds, and I can imagine the knowing sneer on his face. Still, silence from Remus.

"It's at the full moon. Every month at the full moon." Has he guessed it? Snape always was a sneaky bastard, too smart for his own good. "Remus, are you a…?"

"_No_!" The vehemence in my friend's tone shocks me. As does his answer; Remus has always been a very honest person…how has Snape been treating him, for him to feel he has to lie like this? "No, I'm not…what you're thinking. I just can't…not now. Please, Sev."

Thanks to my little charm, I can hear Snape's soft sigh. "Okay. Okay, fine." There's acceptance…but also resentment there. //You would never understand, you prick. You'd run to tell the second you found out, wouldn't you?//

"Sev, it's getting late. I have to go." He sounds so __sad__, and my fists clench. How _dare_ Snape me him feel like that? I bare my teeth, almost unconsciously, but keep to my steady hover below the window. Plenty of time to get back at him. _Plenty_ of time.

"Yeah, me too." More silence…but now, thanks to the charm, I can hear the soft, wet noises, the little hitch in Remus' breath, the sibilant hiss of Snape. I'm shaking, //In disgust. That's all it is, disgust that he's touching Moony.//

"Goodnight Remus."

"'Night, love."

The sound of a shutting door…and then I remember, and I push the broom away from the window, dart out, and behind a crenellated tower that I can watch the exit from without being seen. Remus comes out first, his robes gathered bunched up around him, as he tries to shelter himself in the surprisingly cold spring air. I watch him trot towards the Great Hall, before being drawn back to a darker shape exiting the tower. Snape, perfect.

I press gently against the gnarled handle of the broom, sending it diving down behind him as he hurries the other direction. I almost lose him in the darkness, black on black, but I know which way he's going. As the moon suddenly peeks from behind a sheltering cloud, I spot him again, almost directly in front of my. God, I'm within arm's length! He can't hear me on the broom…and I could just reach out now, end all our troubles. A curse, a quick twist of the neck…but I'm no hardened killer. I know no curses to take the life from a person, even such a deserving one as Snape. No physical maneuvers that would allow me to murder him quickly and quietly.

So instead I touch down behind him, pleased at the startled gasp I wring from him at the sudden sound at his back. He spins awkwardly, and not for the first time do I wonder what Remus sees in him. He is, after all, quite ugly, his enormous nose dominating his face, deep-set eyes sinister and beady in the moonlight. His lips are meager, miserly in their thin line, and he's all angles and sharp points, too tall and too skinny, and too dark altogether. His hair is tangled, oily, like his words, his deceitful words that drew a haze over Remus' mind, his good sense.

"Black," he hisses, snarling at me ferally. His hands curl into angry claws, and I stare at him, mesmerized by the aura of sheer menace he exudes.

"Snape," I answer finally, setting my broom on the damp ground, leaning against it casually. "Imagine meeting you here."

"What do you want?" he spits at me, before his eyes narrow. "Were you spying on Remus and I?"

"Don't take me for the kind of sick pervert you are," I sneer disdainfully, though I've been doing just that, spying. But for a good cause, I tell myself. "No, I was just looking for _you_."

He considers this, hand going reflexively to his pocket. He obviously thinks I'm here to fight with him or something. I have to laugh, and I watch his startled reaction to that warm liquid sound. My laugh's one of my best features, and that's saying a lot. But even I can't break that rigid wall of suspicion. 

"I'll ask again, then. What do you want?"

I tip my head to the side knowingly, letting a small smile quirk the corners of my lips. //Make him _want_ it. He's notoriously nosy, the perfect Slytherin, greedy for knowledge and power.// "Oh, just to have a little word with you…"

"About _what_, Black!?" He's losing his patience already, and I have to take some delight in how easy it is to unnerve him.

"About things you should know…" I trail off deliberately, looking up at the sky, leaning my head against my broomstick.

"_What_ things I should know?" Oh, he's hooked now, and aggro on top of it. I almost have him, but then, "Oh, goddamnit, Black, I don't have time for your games." I hear the rustle of cloth as he turns on his heel, about to stalk away.

"Things you should know about Remus." That stops him. He pivots back slowly.

"Remus know you're telling tales out of school?" One heavy eyebrow is raised as he looks at me, but I can see the tell-tale glint of avarice in those black eyes.

"No, he doesn't." I put my challenge right up there for him to see, and he's drawn by it.

"Then why are you?"

"Because I don't think you can handle what he is." The wonderful thing about this, is I don't even have to lie. Brilliant. "Because I think his little _secret_ will drive you away."

"He's a werewolf, isn't he?" His face gives away nothing, and I make sure to keep my own smooth and bland.

"Maybe. Maybe it's something else. I know a way you can find out."

Now I can see the war in him, the need to know battling the fear of getting caught. His lips twitch in the wake of the struggle, but finally he answers. "How?" His voice is terse, strained.

"You know the Whomping Willow they planted a few years back?"

"Yeah."

"There's a knot in the base, 'round the south side. Push it with a stick or something, and the tree will hold still for a moment and a hole will open up in the bottom. Go into the tunnel, and you'll find out what you wanted to know."

He studies me for a moment, heavy brows furrowed. "Right, Black. I'm going to go into a hole that _you_ tell me to. Likely you and your mates will be waiting in there to kick the shit out of me."

"How long do you think I was following you, Snape?"

"What?" More surprise.

"A good few minutes, it was. I could have cursed you at _any _time tonight, and you would have never known. But I didn't." I pull myself into a more erect position, swinging my broom up horizontal to the ground at my hip. "But it's up to you. If you don't want to know, then don't show up tomorrow night." With that I swing gracefully onto my broom and fly back to the Great Hall and the Gryffindor dorms. I don't need to look back to know Snape is just standing there, staring at me go. Wondering what he should do. //Bloody moron.//

* * * * *

I know he must be terribly distracted. He rushes into the common room, his dark eyes lit with some internal fire that I recognize…someone's been tempting our Severus, tempting him with knowledge if I'm not much mistaken. I slip out from the shadows as he heads towards the stairs and reach out to lightly brush my fingers over his elbow. That's all it takes to send him spinning around like a top, his robes flaring.

"Lucius," he says, at a sudden loss, and his eyes flick over the room to see if there's anyone else around. Evan, or Ravi, or Avery.

"Severus," I say gently, ghosting my fingers along his arm, flickering through the loose folds of black. "I need to talk to you."

"I-" he begins, then stops himself. He thinks about it for a moment, and I drink in his face, that sharp face that pairs mine so well. "Now is not a good time," he concludes.

"When _is_ a good time, Severus?" I know I can make my voice melodiously persuasive when I try, and six years spent with this boy serves me well. He bites his lower lip lightly, his face showing his obvious confusion. "Please…I'm not here to hurt you."

That decides it for him, and I hide my smile, the one that says I still have control, there's still a way for me to get him back. But first I have to lay the groundwork. He can't keep thinking of that horrid scene outside of Potions when he sees me. Or the cold looks we've been exchanging at the table in the Great Hall. "Alright, Lucius. What did you want to speak to me about?"

I wave for him to sit, and am gratified by how quickly he acquiesces to my graceful gesture. I choose a seat close to him, but not threateningly close. "I felt…that is, I thought I should apologize to you." I cast my eyes down, school my face into humble overtones with deep regret as a backdrop.

"What?" I let my gaze flicker up to catch the look of utter incredulity opening his dark face.

"I know…Malfoys don't apologize. But…I'm…I feel lost without you, Severus." I let my voice trail off into an embarrassed whisper, putting just the right amount of longing into it. Real longing, which somehow makes it more bittersweet. I _do_ feel lost without him, but just because it's a genuine emotion doesn't mean it's something I won't use to get what I want.

"Lucius…" he begins, at a loss for words. I keep my head bowed, but let my eyes trace up to his face. Malfoy eyes always look best when seen through a veil of silver-blonde hair.

"Please, don't say anything. I couldn't….damn it, but you make this hard, Severus!" A crack for anger to shine through, for verisimilitude. "Look, that's all I wanted to say. And…if you need something–anything–I'll be here. Alright?"

"I don't want anything," he answers me slowly. "Lucius, you have to understand. I'm with-"

"You're with that Gryffindor, yes, I _had_ noticed," I snap, the anger real this time. "But you can't just throw away six years. I loved you…I still do." I find myself letting out things I hadn't meant to. "You and I, we're perfect for each other. We _understand_ each other, Severus. How can he give you that?"

"I never understood you," he says softly, and this time it's his turn to bow his head, tangles of black shading his face from the dying flames of the fire.

"Oh, you did, love, you did, you just didn't know." I can't help it, I reach out and lightly stroke his chin with my thumb, wanting to lift his face, kiss him, claim him with my mouth, bite his tongue, bleed him into me. The way we used to be. "Please, you can't just throw all that away…"

"_I_ didn't throw it away, Lucius." His voice is stronger now, that silken baritone, and his head snaps up, jerking away from my hand. And oh, how it hurts to see the accusation in those eyes. But it troubles the boiling water of my own rage, too. I narrow my eyes, and I see his sudden flinch at the danger there…he knows me much better than he believes. But there's too much at stake here. I force calm through me in chill breaths, and pull my hand back cautiously.

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry, Severus, I truly am." It's hard to force repentance into my words, but I hang onto how hollow I've felt lately, squeeze every last ounce of regret from that. "I just…I don't want you to think that…I don't want you to hate me. I know you probably can't bring yourself to be friends with me any longer…but I want you to know that I _do_ love you. I think I always will. I think you never really knew that when we were together, and my deepest regret is not making my feelings clear enough."

I draw in a shuddering breath, pulling myself to my feet, then glance at him once more, longingly. "I'll say good night now, Severus," I murmur, letting my hand flutter towards him one last time before falling uselessly to my side.

I hear his whisper when I'm halfway down the stairs. "Good night, Lucius."


	3. Fooled You

[Author's Note: Lyrics quoted herein are: "I Wanna Be Me" by the Sex Pistols. This is my first attempt at writing Dumbledore, which I've been wary of. It's really hard to capture his unique approach to life…so I just wrote him as somber. Hope he doesn't come off as too OOC.]

* * * * *

It seems to be my week for somewhat uncomfortable wooden perches. But the branch of a tree, nestled against the trunk, under its spreading canopy…_much_ better than a broomstick, if not quite equal to the chairs in the common room. It's not raining, either, which is another bonus, especially for spring in England. I feel like whistling, but restrain myself cheerfully. After all, I wouldn't want Snape to catch me lurking about out here, so close to the Whomping Willow. He might suspect something…I allow myself a small snicker at that thought. Snape suspects everyone, and everything. But I know he can't resist the bait I dangled so skillfully under his nose last night.

And here he comes, perhaps a little early. It isn't quite moonrise yet, though that fateful hour is only maybe ten or fifteen minutes away. I consider attempting to stall him, but can think of no reasonable explanation to be hanging around out here, so I remain silent in my elevated perch. The wan glow of his wand sets sickly shadows dancing over his face, and his dark eyes flicker this way and that, until they fall upon the Willow, with its branches dipping and swaying, creaking mournfully.

He scans the ground now, finds a longish stick and carefully skirts the perimeter of the violent tree. I can see his lips moving, perhaps he's mumbling something to himself…and then he spies the knot. With surprising dexterity he darts in, presses it with the stick, then leaps backward. I watch the familiar stilling of the branches, and see the hole open up, hidden amongst the roots. He must see it, too, because he nervously licks his lips, then tightens his grip on his wand before ducking carefully into the tunnel.

Now it's just a matter of waiting, and a lot of problems will be solved. At the very least, he'll be scared witless…at most…well, I don't really want to think about that. But if things get too bad, I can always get in there myself, in my Animagus form. I won't let things get too far. Probably.

It being safe, I start humming to myself, then singing, audible, but not too loud. Don't know who else might be out of bed illicitly.

"_Gimme world war three_

We can live again

You didn't fool me but I fooled you

You wanna be me yeah

You wanna be me

You wanna be someone yeah

Ruin someone yeah

Didn't I fool you

I ruined you yeah"

"The Sex Pistols?" James' voice rings clear and amused through the trees. I glance around, startled, until I spot him standing in the shadow of another oak, grinning up at me, those beautiful, heartbreaking brown eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile.

"And how do you know who the bloody hell the Sex Pistols are?" I ask him tartly, grinning down at him.

"Lily let me listen to a few of their albums." He saunters over to my tree, leaning casually against it, gripping my ankle lightly, so carelessly, and I close my eyes briefly at that soft touch.

"Lily likes the Sex Pistols?"

"Nah, she hates 'em. Says they're crap. But they really hack off her sister, so she plays them at home. Top volume." He laughs at this, and tugs lightly on my ankle. I slide from the tree, holding onto his shoulder to steady myself. I leave my hand there a moment, and our faces are so close, and as always, it's agony.

"They're not crap. Well, alright, that Sid Vicious is crap, but the rest of them are rather good." James just shrugs.

"Couldn't see the appeal myself. Bit noisy, aren't they?"

"That's the _point_!" I exclaim, tightening my finger, pressing the thin pullover into James' slender shoulders. "They're all about noise, and making a row, and-"

"Yes, I _had_ figured that out," James reminds me gently, placing his hand over mine. "I _was_ listening to the lyrics, which was why I could tell what you were singing just now."

Oh, yeah. "Why'd you want to listen to them in the first place?" The light from his wand reflects obliquely off his glasses as he turns his head, and for a moment I can't see his eyes.

"Because _you_ like them, you bloody pillock," he answers softly, lips curving in an easy smile.

"Oh." I glance down at the ground, I can't meet his eyes. "What are you doing here so early? Didn't expect you for another hour…"

He remains silent for a heartbeat, hand resting warmly on mine, his fingers aligning perfectly…then he answers, deliberately pulling away, voice light, far away. "Well, Lily had some homework to do…" he trails off, spinning his wand idly. "What are _you_ doing here, then?"

"Nothing." I know my tone is unconvincing, because he glances over at me sharply, brows drawn down suspiciously. "Well, nothing _serious_…"

"Oh, now that sounds like trouble." But James' eyes glitter with repressed mischief, and I can't help but tell him. It's been hard enough keeping this secret as it is.

"Well, I met up with Snape last night," I begin, and watch him quirk an expressive eyebrow up, but other than that his expression doesn't change. "And he was asking about Moony, you know, where he goes every month…so I told him how to get into the tunnel-" I cut myself off at the expression of dawning horror on James' face.

"You _what_?" he asks in a strengthless whisper. "Oh, Sirius, tell me he hasn't gone in there!"

"Well, yeah, but look, James, we can step in before it gets out of hand," I explain, touching him on the shoulder. But he pulls away, frantically scanning the sky.

"Moonrise…in a few minutes. We have to get him out of there! Oh, Sirius, what have you done?" And then he's gone, sprinting for the Willow. I'm hard put to keep up with him, and I just see him diving down into the tunnel as I get there. I follow as fast as I can, hear him yelling ahead of me.

"Snape? Snape, don't go any further!" His feet pound ahead of me, slapping noisily on the packed earth of the tunnel floor, and despite the fact that my legs are longer, I'm not catching up. My breath comes in heaving gulps of air; it feels like we've been running forever, though it can only have been a few moments. Then I hear it…Remus' growl, a low noise that insinuates itself into the air around me, seductive with its weight of danger. I hear Snape's voice ahead of me now, too.

"Remus?" He's answering that warning growl, and sudden fear shoots through me, crackling ice in my veins. Is he really stupid enough to keep going? Oh god, what have I done?

"Snape! Get back…now!" James' voice holds a seldom used tone of command, but it snaps through my spine with its power. I can see them ahead of me now, James gripping Snape by one bony elbow, yanking him backwards. And Snape, staring up into the waiting darkness that feeds into the Shrieking Shack, a completely unreadable expression on his face. He isn't pulling against James, but he isn't helping him either, standing like a stone, just staring towards the prophetic rumble, foretelling his imminent demise.

"Move it!" James hisses to him, slowly pulling him backwards, and I do the only thing I can think of…I shift into my Animagus form, and bound past the pair, towards Remus, hoping to slow my friend before he can reach them. I'm quicker on four feet, and the stink of adrenaline and fear rides high in the air as I pound up the tunnel, catching Remus slipping down the trap door, graceful as the wolf always is.

He's never really himself like this, and we can't talk, not the way humans do, with words and things. Still, we can both use that language of canines, scent and gesture and eloquent tilts of the head intermingled with barks and whines.

"Stop," I tell him, but he isn't even looking at me, instead staring past me, golden eyes gleaming with hunger and desire.

"I smell him," he tells me as he stalks closer. "I smell him. I want to taste him. Let me by."

I stand my ground, knowing that as sturdy as my dog form is, it's no match for the magnificent creature that is his wolf. But I know he won't hurt me…he has no will to, he just wants to get at James and Snape. But it's not Prongs he wants to taste. "No. No. Go back."

"I won't…" and if a canine can laugh, then he does, lifting his nose high and making a chuffing bark. "I want his blood. I smell him. I smell _him_. He's mine. His blood is mine, his flesh is mine." And without a thought, he barrels into me, pushing me aside with ease, and begins loping down the tunnel. I tear after him, but once again I am outdistanced effortlessly; I can hear his voracious howls baying through the confined space of the tunnel, echoing madly.

And then, a sudden yelping whine, outraged, furious, and hurt. In a few moments I am at the end of the tunnel, and the entrance between the roots of the Whomping Willow gapes open still. But the tree is active once more, and Remus crouches there, muzzle resting on his front paws as he stares out. Blood trickles down from a wound in his forehead, mingling with one at the side of his neck, doubtless inflicted by the tree. He licks at it absently, watching something with intense hunger.

I trot to his side, letting my tongue loll as I pant, and peer out the entrance. It appears as though James got them out just in time, and they've both collapsed at the perimeter of the tree's strike zone. James is on his knees, taking in huge swallows of air, his hands planted in the fertile spring ground. And Snape…he's just sitting there on his bum, as though he'd fallen backwards, hands splayed behind him, staring at Remus, unblinking, like a snake. His lips are moving again, and Remus growls his frustration.

"Mine, he's mine," he snarls, twitching his paws restlessly, shifting, but never taking his eyes away from his intended prey. "Why do you stop me?" he asks me then, puzzlement - though no anger - coming through clearly in the angle of his head. "Why?"

I have no answer.

The hole in the roots of the Willow closes a few moments later, but Remus stays there for hours more, watching the place where it was patiently, waiting for his prey to come back, I think. I sit with him, but say nothing. What can I say? I have no real sense of time, but when I see the great wolf shuddering and twisting in pain, I know it must be dawn. He spills from wolf to boy so quickly, with a howl that turns into a weak, helpless cry as Remus twitches, naked, on the earthen floor of the tunnel. I take my own human form again with some relief, and gather him to me. I know what will happen now…he always falls into a deeply exhausted sleep after his change, and won't wake for hours.

As I settle his head against my shoulder, though, he blinks his eyes open, now only lit with gold instead of drowning in it, green and brown swimming there as well. "Padfoot?" he asks, and I can see the huge effort it is for him to keep awake. "Was…was Severus…? I thought I saw him…was he here?"

What can I do? I lie, as I stand, picking him up with me. "No, Moony. It's just me…just me." He nods, sinking back gratefully into my arms as I open the door to the tunnel and take him out into the grey light of the new morning.

McGonagall is waiting in front of the portrait hole to the Gryffindor dorms. Her normally severe face is set in thin, stark lines as she watches me carry Remus up the steps. "Take him into his bed, then come back out here," she commands frostily, and anger crackles through her eyes. //Didn't take Snape long to go running to Dumbledore,// I think with some resentment, as I move past her and into the common room.

I settle Remus gently into his bed, pulling the covers up around him and watching as he lets out a soft sigh and turns, curling into a fetal ball. The morning light shines through the window, lighting his honey hair with gold and red, gilding his long lashes. In sleep, he is truly more beautiful than any of us, even my beloved James, and so fragile. I brush my fingers lightly across his cheek, then turn away to slip back downstairs.

McGonagall leads me silently through the halls until we stand outside Dumbledore's office. "Cinnamon Salamanders," she snaps out, and I follow her into the cozy, crowded room, glancing around. Dumbledore is there, of course, sitting behind his desk and looking upon me gravely. I feel my eyes drop in shame at his gaze, and the full weight of what I've done comes to roost on my shoulders like some great, dark bird. James is here, too, polishing his glasses nervously on his robes, and Snape, sitting in a corner. He does not look at me, merely stares at the ground in front of him, his thin fingers twisting in arcane knots in his lap.

"Sirius," Dumbledore addresses me, gesturing to an empty chair. "Please, sit. I feel there are certain things we should discuss, the four of us." McGonagall takes that as her cue, and exits the way she came. I gingerly sit on the edge of my chair, for once not prepared with glib explanations and facile excuses.

"Now," he begins, "James has told me some of what happened, but I would like to hear your side of the story." I frown, glancing over at Snape. Surely, he's covered all of that? Not in the most flattering terms, I'm sure, but…I glance back at Dumbledore, who is merely watching me patiently, kind blue eyes exuding a sense of solemn calm.

"Well, sir, where would you like me to begin?" I ask, uncertain of where I stand, what to do. I look over at James again, and he's got his eyebrows down, urging me to do…something. Though I can usually read his every expression with ease, I'm stumped now. So I decide that maybe going with the truth is the best bet, at this point.

"Begin at the beginning, Sirius."

So I do. I tell him the whole sordid thing…from a point, anyway. I tell him about luring Snape into the tunnel underneath the Whomping Willow, and how I thought that I could act in time if things got out of hand, how James found me there, and saved Snape, and trying to keep Remus back…though I didn't mention exactly how I did that. In fact, there are many glaring holes in my story, which I think the headmaster realizes, from the small frown on his face at certain points. But still, he doesn't probe any further, and seems to accept everything at face value. I feel somewhat relieved after the whole thing, glad to have gotten it out…but still, I know I'm likely to face expulsion.

"Didn't Snape tell you all of this?" I ask, interrupting the pregnant pause drifting through the room at the end of my confession.

Dumbledore glances over the other boy, who still has his head down, shoulders hunched. "Severus has chosen to remain silent on the details of this matter," he replies, and I have to stare, before it hits me. Of course, he's embarrassed about his relationship with a werewolf, exactly as I thought he might be. What an utter bastard.

"Severus?" Dumbledore continues, turning that patient gaze to the other boy. "Do you concur with Sirius' version of events?"

Snape looks up then, his dark eyes burning with…something. "He tried to kill me." His voice is flat, dead, and I suppress a shudder at the lack of emotion there. //Jesus, he really is a cold fish.//

"You have to understand, Remus isn't really in control of his actions when he's in that state-" the headmaster begins, but Snape cuts him off.

"Not Remus. Black. Black tried to kill me."

"Look, Snape, I already said I didn't really think anything bad would happen!" I exclaim angrily, outraged his accusations. //What a hypocrite! I'm sure he would have been glad to sit by and watch me be devoured myself, given the choice!//

He turns his head then, fixing me with those sinister ebon depths. "Bollocks, Black. You knew exactly what would happen…or what you hoped would happen. Sorry to disappoint you." I watch in amazement as a ghost of a smile flickers over his lips, before disappearing again.

"Boys," Dumbledore interrupts, glancing between the two of us. Satisfied that neither of us were about to jump the other, he continues. "I'm sure you're aware of the gravity of your offense, Sirius. Normally, such blatant disregard for another student's welfare would be punishable by expulsion."

My heart leaps at the last. Normally, he said…I listen eagerly as he continues. "However, I must consider the welfare of all involved here. And while I am deeply disappointed in you, Sirius, I feel that you are a good friend to Remus, and in the days ahead of him, I do not feel right in taking any of those from him." I can't stop the smile from winging its way onto my face, but the headmaster holds up a hand to prevent me from speaking. "However, I feel at the very least a month of detentions with Mr. Filch are in order. You will report for your first tonight directly after dinner."

James touches my shoulder lightly, relief washing beautifully through his expressive face, and I smile back at him. A month of detention is nothing to sniff at, but it's a far cry from the disgrace of being expelled in my 7th year. I glance over at Snape, but find his gaze directed to the floor again, his lips set in a hard line.

"I would also ask that you boys please keep this among yourselves. Remus has another year here, and I think things on him are hard enough as it is." Dumbledore addresses all of us with a lighter tone, but still serious. I think we're all shocked at the words that come tumbling out of the Slytherin at this point.

He leaps to his feet, and suddenly his expression is all too clear; rage clouds his dark eyes, twists his mouth in an ugly snarl. "That's really for me, isn't it? Everyone knows you can't trust a _Slytherin_ with a secret, and of course, I have absolutely no reason to care for Remus' feelings, do I?" His hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists at his side, and his normally low voice is thick with emotion. "Please excuse me, _Headmaster_, if I can no longer stomach this little farce. You have nothing to fear from _me_." And he shoots Dumbledore a look so laden with poisonous hatred that the old man would have fallen over dead, if such looks had power.

"Severus, that is not what I meant," Dumbledore begins gently, but Snape merely shakes his head curtly, and stalks from the room, slamming the door behind him. I look back to the headmaster, and am surprised to see a deep, ages old sorrow there in his faded blue eyes. He turns them to me, and I feel shame flood through me again, washing away the tentative relief that had sunk its tendrils into my heart.

"Sirius, you may have done more damage than you know," he says. "Severus is a good boy, at heart. I hope that you'll reflect on that in the months to come."

"Professor Dumbledore, you don't know-" I begin, but a quick wave of his hand silences me more effectively than any spell.

"I do know. Please, boys…breakfast is surely commencing down in the Great Hall." It's a dismissal, but I remain sitting, staring at Dumbledore, only rising when I feel James' hand on my elbow urging me to my feet. I can't help but look back as we slip out the door, but it seems as though he's miles away, an expression of such terrible melancholy wearing on his face that I feel like crying.


	4. Webs We Weave

I'm roused from slumber by a sharp rap on my door, and I pause for a moment, eyes still closed. But the rap comes again and I climb out of bed, shivering a little in the cool night air. Then again, it's always fairly cold down here in the dungeons. Opening the door, I behold a pair of reddish brown eyes under a fall of walnut hair. Evan Rosier, a particularly ambitious 5th year grins up at me, his too-wide mouth giving him an almost froggish appearance at times.

I ignore the open leer he directs my way, and turn my back on him to pad back into my room. I know he'll follow. "What is it?" I ask, putting on an air of affected boredom. I'm anything but, though, as it's unlikely any of the Slytherins would wake me at two in the morning for nothing. 

"It's your boy, Severus," Evan replies as I turn to look at him. He throws himself into a chair, hooking one slender leg over the arm insolently. Evan is not particularly attractive - his features are too sharp for that, and he's short, besides - but he always _acts_ as though he is. Strangely enough, it seems to work; he has no lack of bed partners, and is well liked among his own year and House.

"What about him?" I arch one eyebrow, picking idly at my pyjama bottoms as I watch him carefully. His face remains politely lustful, however.

"Well, he's sitting down in the common room…"

"And?" //There had better be more to it than _that_.//

"And he's been down there all night. I mean, he went to classes today, and came back, and he's just been sitting in there." Evan sounds as puzzled as I feel…Severus _is_ a bit of a moper, but he doesn't usually pout for _that_ long.

"What's he doing?" I ask, crossing my arms over my bare chest.

"That's just it, Luce, he's not doing anything!" Evan's one of the few people I allow to use a nickname with me. "Just staring into the fire. He won't answer anyone's questions. One of the 2nd years got the bright idea of flicking stuff at him, you know, bits of food and such? Anyways, he just pointed his wand over his shoulder and cursed them, didn't even look away from the fire. Parkinson swears he hasn't blinked all evening, but you know what a moron Parkinson is."

I consider this carefully. Strange behavior indeed…but it's not likely I'll get him to talk to _me_ about it. "Hmm. Thanks, Evan. I'll look into it." I walk over to the door, holding it pointedly open. Leisurely, he gets to his feet and saunters out, glancing back at me briefly.

"What are friends for, love?" he asks, narrowing those strange eyes at me before grinning and heading down the hall. I like Evan. He's suitably odd, definitely twisted, but smart enough to hold it together when he needs to. A proper Slytherin.

But now I need someone else, someone a little less put together. Gavin Crabbe should do the trick nicely. I pull on a robe as I head over to the 4th year boys' dorm. They still all sleep five to a room, but none of them are likely to make any complaints if a Malfoy is knocking them up at this hour.

Gavin opens the door slowly, peering blearily out at me, blinking in the corridor's torchlight. "Lucius?" he asks, voice heavy with sleep. Behind him I hear the groaning questions of other half-awake children.

"Get out here, Gavin," I command, jerking my head imperiously. He doesn't question, just slips out and closes the door quietly behind him. He blinks down at me slowly, looking like he's coming out of some opium dream. His runs his tongue over full pink lips, and his cheeks are flushed prettily.

"I need you to do something for me."

He nods immediately, and rubs the sleep from his eyes. "What do you need?"

"You've seen Severus down in the common room?" He looks more alert within seconds, nodding again and pushing twisting sandy locks of hair out of his face.

"Yeah, is he still down there?"

"Yes, he is. I need you to find out what's wrong. He won't talk to me." Not really even a lie; I don't doubt he wouldn't talk to me had I noticed he was down there and approached him.

"I can try, but he wouldn't talk to me, either," Gavin offers hesitantly. I smile, smoothing back more of those curling bits of hair. It's really quite lovely, a sort of sun-kissed brown.

"You can persuade him to, Gavin. He trusts you." I watch his spine straighten, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips at my assessment.

"Alright, I'll try," he agrees. "Maybe I should get a robe on…" He's only wearing a pair of loose shorts, and the childish softness of his face seems at odds with broad, tall frame and muscular arms and chest. A little boy in a man's body. Cliché, but true.

"No, you're fine," I say, lightly touching his shoulder. He's so warm, from sleep. "Go on." He nods again, this time decisively, and heads up the stairs to the common room. I follow at a discreet distance. It won't make any difference if he notices me watching, but Severus is not likely to open up if he spots me eavesdropping.

I pause at the doorframe, glancing into the common room to see Gavin approaching Severus, whose back is to the door. I move silently into the room, standing unobtrusively next to a large bookcase. Close enough to hear everything, see everything, but not so close Severus will notice someone behind him. Not that he'd notice anyway, Gavin is standing to the side of him and he never looks up. For that matter, I don't think the younger boy has noticed I'm here either, didn't see me following him.

"Severus?" Gavin's voice is quiet, tentative. No response. He continues carefully. "I've…I've been worried about you. I wish you'd talk to me." Still nothing. Sighing, Gavin sinks to his knees next to the chair. I can't see my lover's face, but he doesn't turn his head.

"I know you don't want to talk to me," Gavin continues softly, gazing raptly up into Severus' face. "So maybe you can just listen for a bit. I've missed you." He pauses briefly, and the firelight dances across the soft curve of his cheek. "I know…I know you just don't have as much time now, and I don't blame you or anything but. But. But I still miss you." His voice is so sad, so tentative. Pathetic to need someone so much. Pathetic. Like me.

"I was talking to Kelley the other day. He's this Ravenclaw, we have Herbology together. He says people like me, all Slytherins, are deceitful, nasty gits who shouldn't be allowed to take classes with other Houses, because we might _pollute_ them." The boy's pale blue eyes drop to the floor, tracking across the clasped hands in his lap. "I wanted to tell him about you. How you're the kindest, smartest person I know. How you're worth ten of him. I didn't know how to start, though. So I hit him a few times, until he shut up." He heaves another sigh, filled with frustration. "Maybe one day you'll teach me how to say those things. Probably not. I'm pretty hopeless, huh?"

Severus doesn't respond, but I see his head turn, and I can imagine the somber expression on his face. Gavin just stares up at him raptly, then leans forward and rests his head in the older boy's lap. I see one of those graceful hands rise in the air, then settle gently in Gavin's brown-blonde curls, stroking through their sleep-snarled lengths, teasing them out with slender fingers. The younger boy lets out a slow, happy breath, and I have the impression that this is something they've done before, this gentle soothing. Gavin curls himself against Severus' legs, leaning heavily into him, like a dog.

Severus turns his gaze back to the fire, and I hear his voice clearly, though he speaks at only a murmur. "I didn't know that about him. About Remus. I thought I did, but I didn't. He didn't want to kill me, though, I know that. No matter what Dumbledore says. Black wanted to kill me, but not him." His low voice has a dream-like quality, breathy and contemplative as he continues to stroke the younger boy. 

Gavin lets out a contented, "Mmmm."

"I think…I think he just wanted to _bite_ me. I wonder if he remembers?" I can't for the life of me figure out what he's talking about. His little toy wanted to _bite_ him? But the Headmaster thought he wanted to _kill_ him? And Black _does_ want to kill him? Well, that makes sense at least, but the rest…?

"I'm not sure what to do, Gavin. I love him…I think he knows. I think." He sounds as though he's talking to himself, despite his use of the boy's name…it seems as though Gavin's calming blankness is of use to him as well. "But this is really…well. I don't know. I still love him. It doesn't change much, I think. I need to talk to him. But I won't be able to. For. For at least two more days…while he's _sick_."

He was sick? I suppose that was what had upset Severus…he's obviously had some sort of conflict with Lupin, but now that the Gryffindor is sick, he can't talk to him about it. Still, this is rather an extreme reaction. It must have been something big they fought about…maybe Black? Hmm. There's opportunity here to be taken.

"But we'll talk. We'll figure this out. I know we will. I just need to get a note to him…without Black noticing. He's going to try to get in the way, I know it. I need to talk to him the night after tomorrow, he should be okay by then. But not well enough to be in classes that day, so I can't arrange something in Potions. Damn." At no point does the frustration in Severus' words leak through into his voice. He keeps up that calm, dreamy tone.

"I could help." Gavin's words drift out into the warm air of the common room, and Severus' hand stops briefly in its slow, repetitive stroking. He starts up again, this time twisting one long ringlet around his finger. Then his hand slips down to the boy's upper back, smoothing slow circles.

"How?"

"Well, if he comes to dinner, I could pass him a note. I don't think Black even knows who I am." Gavin's tone is hopeful, so terribly eager to please. I watch his cherubic lips wing upwards in a smile as Severus nods.

"Thank you, Gavin. Yes, yes that should work." He falls silent as he continues petting the younger boy, who lets his eyes drift closed and practically _purrs_. I've heard enough. This has opened up whole _worlds_ of possibilities that need some thinking, some planning. The one thing I _do_ know is that when Severus goes to meet Lupin, it won't be for a reconciliation. I'll make sure of that.

* * * * *

It's easy enough to procure a so-called love potion, little more than a glorified aphrodisiac. The ones that mess with your emotions are considered Dark magic, but a simple little lust enhancer, those are used by old men as well as young, and therefore must be acceptable. I have to laugh at the thought. One can do more damage with a well-placed love potion than with ten Cruciatus curses. Getting it where it needs to be, however, that's going to be trickier.

I examine the note Gavin has been sent to deliver to Lupin carefully. Of course he came right to me as soon as Severus gave it to him. He seemed a bit guilty about it, however, and I had to spend some time soothing his aching conscience. "Gavin, you know that Gryffindor is going to drop him eventually. They're just too different. Better that he sees the truth now. Besides," I added slyly, "He'll have more time for his own House, now." That clinched it. The boy handed the note over eagerly.

Severus has set the meeting time for two hours after dinner, in an unused classroom on the third floor. Perfect. It's really so easy…all I have to do is alter the note a bit. "Subjectio," I whisper to the parchment, tapping it lightly with my wand. The words swirl dizzyingly on the page, to be replaced with the new time, an hour earlier. Ensuring Lupin showing up when _I_ want him to. Grinning to myself, I refold the note and hand it back to Gavin.

We head down to dinner separately to avoid suspicion. As I enter the Great Hall, I watch Gavin slipping between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables. Is Lupin there? I see him, looking pale and wan, picking at his food. He keeps glancing over at the Slytherin table, where Severus gazes back at him steadily. Lupin fixes his eyes on the table in front of him, looking terribly unhappy. Must have been a big fight, whatever it was about. //Get used to feeling like shit, Lupin. No one takes what's mine,// I think viciously.

Gavin drops the note unobtrusively to Lupin's side, then moves back to our table. Black, the idiot, doesn't even notice, too busy conversing animatedly with Potter. Lupin unfolds it as I seat myself, glancing up again at Severus. A small smile slips onto his face, pulling at his tired eyes. My lover nods back, allowing himself an answering smile. The last they'll exchange, I imagine. Lupin turns back to his plate, actually trying to eat now.

I lean over to Ravi, who's talking in a bored tone with his sister about Arithmancy. "Ravi," I hiss to him, and he glances up at me with those incredible dark eyes, some interest dawning in his face. Ravi LeStrange is one of the most beautiful men I've ever met. Which is exactly what I need now.

"Hmm?" he answers, arching one perfect brow.

"I need you to do something," I say, leaning to the right, towards him. He obediently moves in closer, and I murmur to him my plan. He gets this perfectly delicious wicked grin on his face, and nods.

"Okay, but you owe me for this, Lucius," he warns, and I nod placidly. I pull the vial of "love potion" from my robes.

"_Insum venenum_," I murmur, spilling the potion into my hand. The spell forms it into a self-contained little ball, without the glass. I hand this gingerly to Ravi, who palms it neatly. Grinning at me, he threads his way through the tables, easily slipping past other students moving around to talk with friends and classmates.

He reaches the Gryffindor table, and very deliberately, as he moves past, reaches out and pinches Potter. Or pinches Potter's ass, to be more exact. The loud "Hey!" is audible even all the way over here. The Quidditch star turns, frowning, to confront a smug Ravi. "What'd you do that for?"

I see Black rising now, glowering. I guess what they say is true, he is more beautiful when angry. Must be madly jealous of the lovely Slytherin daring to touch _his_ Potter. I sit back, watching the whole show with a great deal of amusement. Ravi is saying something flippant, I can just tell from the expression on his face, and Black has grabbed him by the front of his robes, pushing him up against the table. And, yes… I would've missed it if I didn't know what to look for…Ravi's slipped the ball of potion into the pumpkin juice, quick and sly.

Oh, and now McGonagall's entered the fray, standing at the staff table, her voice ringing out through the hall. "Mr. Black! Put that boy down at once!" Snarling, Black reluctantly releases his captive, who brushes off his robes and trots back to our table, grinning triumphantly as McGonagall continues, "Ten points from Gryffindor."

"Mission accomplished," Ravi smirks as he sits back down. "Almost worth doing it for free."

I nod, my attention back on the Gryffindor table. Since there was little choice but to dose the whole pitcher, I imagine the whole gang of Gryffindor gits will be quite…preoccupied tonight. I watch gleefully as both Black and Lupin drink some of the tainted juice, as well as Potter and that slimy, fat little 4th year that always tags along with them. But my work is still not done.

The second note I've prepared weighs heavily in my pocket. This is going to be difficult, requiring something more than simple sleight of hand. I need to get the note on Black somehow, without him noticing, and have it fall out some point when he's alone. It was easy enough to obtain the handwriting sample of Lupin's to forge a note from; Severus has a stack of notes from him. The sentimental fool keeps absolutely anything Lupin writes on…I found notes about homework assignments for Chrissakes!

As the Gryffindor four prepare to leave, I pull out the note. Tapping it once with my wand, I whisper, "_Ostendo cum solitas_". It's a tricky little spell that I actually had to look up and practice a bit yesterday. It will ensure that the note only makes itself known when Black is alone. It's the biggest flaw in my whole plan; Black might not get a moment alone tonight, at least not in time to read the note and act accordingly.

I stand, allowing a few Hufflepuffs to move between myself and my target. Then, with a deep breath, I push between them leaving a few cries of indignation behind me. Pretending to be in a hurry, I do the same to Black and Potter, pushing impatiently on Black's black with the note in my hand, conveniently sliding it up below the hood, neatly hidden. A barely audible, "_Adhaero_", a warning growl from Black, and I'm done. For this phase, anyway.

The only thing left is to conceal myself in the empty classroom, cast one more spell, and then sit back and watch. I've been able to cast various obscuration spells since I was eight, so there should be little difficulty in staying hidden. A bit more in getting the right elements in place, but I'll manage. _If_ Black shows up. He's got to show. He simply has to.

I sit in the darkened classroom on the third floor, almost bursting with impatience. It isn't like me, to be this worried, to be this _weak_, but so much depends on this! I hate Severus for making me feel like this, so pathetically _needy,_ and I think for a moment what it would be like to let all this go. Just walk away, go back to my room, take up with someone like Evan, someone my father would approve of. But I can't. I can't turn my back on this, on _him_. Love. It's a horribly insidious emotion, and not for the first time do I curse its power.

The concealing and silence charms I've cast will last hours. There's nothing for me to _do_, waiting here, and I resist the urge to pace. Surely it's past time one of them should have shown? I glance fitfully out the window, but see nothing. When Lupin finally opens the door, I nearly scream in relief. Not that it could be heard past my charm, but still…

"Severus?" His sweet voice holds both hope and worry. How fucking touching. I slip across the floor as he lights up his wand with a softly spoken, "Lumos." Seeing no one here, he frowns, and mumbles to himself, "I must be early." I notice, in the cool light of his wand, that his cheeks are flushed. He's not breathing particularly heavy…must be the potion kicking in. I smirk in satisfaction.

One last charm, and the job's done. I slip behind him, lightly touch the tip of my wand to the back of his head, not enough for him to notice. "Confundo," I say loudly, focusing hard on an image in my head, that of Black and Severus. Standing so close together, the similarities between them exaggerated, both with longish black hair, dark eyes, slender. The Confundus curse is malleable to the will of the caster. A very powerful Dark spell, and the final component of my plan. 

Lupin turns suddenly, sniffing at the air, a confused expression on his face…I slide away from him, wondering if I've been sweating or something. He continues to glance around the room, eyes narrowed, but he's no longer looking towards me. And with the curse on him now…I can't wait until Black shows up. This is going to be absolutely perfect.

When the door opens again I hold my breath, in tandem with Lupin. I release it in a hiss of relief as I see it _is_ Black, and not Severus, come early. He, too, is flushed, and the look in his indigo eyes is sheer desperation. "Remus," he whispers hoarsely, and I watch the confusion flicker across Lupin's eyes. He's not sure who Black is to him now, lover or friend…but Black answers the question for him, crossing the room in a few long strides.

Black sweeps the younger boy into his arms, and hungrily devours him, lips pressing demandingly against Lupin's. Lupin stiffens for a moment, then melts as all his questions are answered. I watch with clinical detachment, but a sudden thought makes everything real again. //This is how Lupin is with Severus. This is what Severus has been doing these past months.// The thought settles like a stone in the pit of my stomach, and a sudden rage and jealousy blossoms there, acid and churning.

//No more. He's not yours anymore,// I think savagely, and slip past the entwined couple to open the door a crack. _They_ won't notice, they're far to wrapped up in each other, but anyone coming down the hall…Severus. Severus will see. And then he'll be mine again.


	5. Discovery

I think the heat first started when we were all walking out of the Great Hall after dinner. It danced at the edge of perception at first, just a faint tingling in my toes, a strange tickle in the bottom of my stomach. It wasn't noticeable enough for me to think anything of it, and I chatted amiably with James as we headed up to our room to work on an assignment for Transfiguration. I was trying not to think of the detention later in the evening; Filch was having me harvest moon lichen for one of the professors on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Moon lichen looked pretty much like regular moss, except it glowed brightly from midnight until three in the morning. And it _smelled_.

But that heat turned into something else entirely. Or maybe just something more. I can't keep my eyes off him, my beautiful James, lying obliviously on my bed and biting his lower lip in deep concentration. His eyes, such an amazing deep brown, like dark chocolate, so rich you could drown in them happily. I find my hand creeping out to divest him of his glasses, that hide so much of his face from me. I snatch it back guiltily as he looks up and smiles quizzically.

"Alright, Sirius?" he asks, gazing up at me, and is it my imagination that paints the blooming flush in his cheeks? It must be, but still I'm entranced at the way his tongue darts out, licks the curl of his upper lip, oh so delicately.

"Uh…fine," I manage to sputter out, nothing like my usual easy banter. "Why?"

Oh, and now he's studying me with those incredible eyes, looking at me from under thick, short lashes. I force my eyes away from his face briefly, trying to gain a bit of control. I hope desperately he doesn't notice how hard I am, how utterly arousing I find every little gesture, every word. "Well, you look a little…uncomfortable," he answers me slowly, his voice uncharacteristically low.

Against my will, my eyes are pulled back to that open, lovely face, tracking over the untidy mop of black threaded through with dark walnut. His lips are half parted as he stares back at me, and I feel my heart trip hammer in my chest. //Oh, it would be so easy to just lean forward…lean forward and kiss him, take those lips, those perfect, moist, soft lips…what harm will it do?//

It's been well over a minute since he last spoke, and still I haven't answered him. But he says nothing about this, simply stares up at me with that curious blush on his cheeks, as though waiting for something. He can't…he can't be _waiting_ for me to kiss him, can he? No, of course not, our James is as straight as the day is long, but still…again, the voice in my head urges me on.

//He _wants_ you to, look at him, when have you ever seen someone so ready? And he's all you've ever wanted, really, the whole of your existence since you saw him first seven years ago. _Take_ him, when are you ever going to get this opportunity again? He's like a ripe fucking peach, so sweet, so amazingly sweet and soft and juicy and perfect and _begging_ and //

I stop myself. I have to. My hands clench in the bed covers as I try to say something, anything. "James, I…"

"Yes?" He's so fucking _rapt_, //God, don't do this to me!//

"I…" //I can't, I can't. It'll all fall apart, he'll hate me in the morning, something's wrong, something's _wrong_, you can't fuck this up, Black, you can't, you'll lose the best friend you ever had, _don't_.// I push myself off the bed, bolt out of the room and down the hall, rounding a corner and stopping, panting. //My god, what's happening to me? It's never been this bad…// And try to forget the hurt look in those dark eyes when I ran for the door.

I lean back against the cool stone of the wall, fluttering my eyes closed, trying to catch ahold of myself. Things are only getting worse, though, and the pressure in my groin is becoming painful. But a small noise distracts me–the dry slither of paper on stone, falling gently to the floor. I look down, see the folded note. //What the hell is that?//

I pick it up and unfold it, noting the familiar careful script. //Remus.// The note is vague, unspecific, but my heart leaps in my chest. An answer, an answer to this terrible searing heat that threatens to undo me. A small voice that has yet to be heard tonight reminds me of something I don't want to hear. //Is it any less likely that Remus will regret this in the morning? Less of a chance you might lose a friend? Or do you just not care _quite_ so much for him?// I snarl angrily, smack my head back against the wall before studying the note once more.

__

Sirius-

Meet me in the old Geomancy classroom on the third floor. Come alone. We need to talk. I've been doing a lot of thinking about our relationship.

-Remus

There's really no need to think, though, my body's done it for me as I push away from the wall, head down the stairs and out the portrait hole, hurrying through the endless corridors to the boy waiting for me. And when I finally get to the door, the door like so many others leading to yet another unused classroom, I stop, take a deep breath, _try_ to think. But that burning is still there, flushed through my entire system by my wicked heart; my blood is boiling, pounding too loudly to ignore. I step through the door.

And there he is, every bit as beautiful as James. That face, those eyes, that brilliant hair like bronze glimmering in the light of his wand. He looks…confused. Did he not expect me to show up? I can't stand that look on his face, and before I know it I'm _stalking_ across the floor, wrapping my arms around him, and he's so precious, so warm, so deliciously _here_ and I don't care what gets ruined tonight, I can't hold back any longer.

For one terrifying moment his lips are slack under mine, his body stiff. But sudden he opens and I dip my tongue into his mouth, drinking in his warmth, taking it into me and adding it to the fire in my veins. He tastes faintly of cinnamon, something he must have drank, and I feel him melt into me as his tongue plays demandingly with mine. And that voice, the voice of caution, I can't hear it anymore. All that matters is Remus, here in my arms, and why did I never do this before?

I slide my hands inside his robe, and I hear his throaty moan. His broad hands scrabble ineffectively at my chest, and I pull back to smile wolfishly down at him. He's so _needy_, and it opens him up in ways I never imagined. Everything, everything is forgiven, forgotten, I don't care, I just know that I need to feel his skin, feel him under me, anything. I divest him of his robes impatiently, and he's not looking away, just watching me do it as his teeth scrape lightly over his full lower lip.

I slip his t-shirt over his head, and pull off my own as well, having left my robes behind in the dorm. And then I'm free to press up against him, feel the heated slide of flesh over flesh, sweat prickling at my hairline from the furnace roaring inside me, rolling off me in waves, and answered by his body. He's feverish as I claim his lips again, kissing madly. I press into his smaller body, feel the length of him under his jeans, firm and ready. I grind my hips into him, and the heat becomes briefly overwhelming, flaring up through me with impossible-to-sate ardor.

The moan comes from me this time, and I fall to my knees in front of him, shoving him back into the desk behind. I _have_ to see him, I _have_ to taste that hardness, and I'm never more grateful for my nimble fingers as now, as I pop the buttons of his jeans, slide them down his hips. His hands fist in my hair, and I look up at him, and see my own desire mirrored there, clouding his eyes a beautiful gold, wolf amber. I continue to watch as I dart out my tongue to taste the tip of his erection, a brilliant ruby, straining towards my mouth. He shoves his hips forward, groaning loudly, lets his head fall backwards.

He's mumbling, muttering, all I can catch is "please", but it's enough for me. I slowly ease my lips over the head of his cock, watching his face, so ecstatic. Why did I wait, why did I ever wait? This is heaven, watching him shudder above me, the delicate salty taste of him, the perfect way he feels in my mouth, his thick length pushing against my tongue.

I bob my head, trying to take him all in, to completely engulf him in my mouth. I can't quite, my gag reflex kicks in, but it's worth it, to choke on him, to smell his sweat and arousal so close, to wrap my arms around his thighs, hold him in place while I ravage his cock with delirious abandon. All coherency is leaving me, but I can take brief pleasure is noting that it left him several minute ago. My beautiful, beautiful Remus. Mine.

* * * * *

It seems as though that little potion is working exactly as advertised. Black can't keep his hands off Lupin, and the younger boy, while taking a less active role than I would like, is certainly not objecting to be sucked down like a ice lolly on a summer day. I have to admit, the show is quite titillating, but not why I'm here. It isn't difficult to creep back to the door with all the noise they're making, and I slip back out into the hall, cracking the door just enough to let their cries and moans seep into the quiet, dead air of the third floor corridor.

Severus is due in twenty minutes or so, but knowing him, he'll be early. He's been too impatient to talk to that boy _not_ to be. So I settle in for what should be a short wait, and I'm right…not five minutes later, here he comes, black robes swishing in his wake as he hurries across the stone floor. There are spots of high color in his cheeks, and while he isn't smiling, he certainly looks…eager.

I can pinpoint the exact second he hears them. He slows abruptly, and a hint of a frown knits his heavy brows together. But only irritation; he obviously thinks someone else is using the classroom. I see him let out a soft sigh, and he moves forward again, this time more quietly. Yes, annoyance is now announcing itself loudly in those elegant features. I ghost around the door, angling myself so I can see his face when he looks in, but not so close that I'll give myself away with any noise.

He pulls out his wand, holding it loosely in those long fingers, and nears the door. He tilts his head to the side, peering in…

I'm sorry I did it. For one shining moment, I'm so, so sorry. Severus has never been a particularly expressive person. He gets across everything he needs to with little quirks of his lips, arches of eyebrow. But now…oh, his face cracks violently open, wide and glaring and raw, and I've never seen such pain, such shock, like an open wound. There is surge of terrible, terrible regret and with it comes the numbing wash of power. //I did that. I did it, I made him feel that.//

I've never seen Severus cry. Not even when he was a 1st year. I remember an incident when he was in his 2nd year; some 4th year Gryffindors got him up against a wall after a Quidditch match and just started pounding him. I never knew why, he wouldn't tell me, but as I watched they punched him over and over in the stomach, until he vomited. Never touched his face, just his stomach. There was blood on his lips when he finished heaving and gagging. But not one tear stood in his eyes. As they moved away from him, he fell to his knees, hands landing in the mess in his feet. But those black eyes stayed dry as he watched them walk away. He marked them. And two years later, he made them pay.

But now, those tears spring to life in his eyes, glittering moisture pooling radiantly and slipping free. His mouth is open in silent shock, and I can hear that he's not breathing, just frozen, sedated by agony. It's fascinating to watch him, all the secrets he's ever held flashing across those eyes, every slight, every unkind word, every blow glistening there in the darkness on his cheeks, running down his chin, dropping silently to disappear into the depthless black of his robes.

His wand clatters noisily to the floor, and I tear myself away from his face to peer past the door myself. Black obviously hasn't heard, as he's still working busily on his friend, but Lupin's eyes track over to the crack in the door. It takes him a few moments, as he blinks slowly, just staring. He mouths, "Severus?" as he watches the stone form that is his lover, confusion knitting his brows, crossing his prettily flushed face.

He suddenly shoves Black away, sending the taller boy back onto his arse. Lupin's face mirrors Severus', shock and panic and pain all combined into one horrified mess. He looks down at Black, who's staring up at him in consternation, his lips red and swollen from his previous position. Then he looks back to his lover, who is no longer there.

Severus runs down the hall, away from me, away from everything. I don't know where he'll go tonight. I have a strong feeling it won't be back to the Slytherin dorms. But wherever it is, Lupin won't catch him. I glance back into the classroom, see Lupin reaching for his robes, trying to pull away, but Black has him by the leg, is pleading with him about something. I smile in satisfaction. No one takes what's mine. No one.


	6. Aftermath

Something broke in him that night. Something irreplaceable and lovely, and I can't help but think I did it, took that light away from him. It wasn't the first time I regretted my impulsiveness, and I doubt it will be the last. He won't talk to me about it, though, and I think it might take a very long time for our friendship to heal from this one. I should have listened to that voice in my head.

I know Remus has tried to talk to Snape on multiple occasions these last few months. About what, I don't know. He never explained to me why he let me touch him that night, but I have my suspicions. I think it may have been a trick, a potion or something, maybe a charm. I haven't felt that kind of desire since, at least not in Remus' presence. So maybe that's what he wants to talk to Snape about.

But I know he never manages to. He comes back to the dorms in these terrible, black depressions. He won't speak, and stays in his room for days on end, except to go to classes. He skips meals at these times, more often than not. I'm finding reason to be grateful to strange little Peter now; he's the only person Remus will talk to.

It wasn't worth it. Not even to get Snape out of our lives, it wasn't worth it. I love Remus, I know now, but not in the way I love James. He…he could be a friend I could talk to, about everything, all my secrets, and I've gone and fucked it all up. I'm not the type of person that can spend a lot of time wallowing in self-loathing, but regret…now regret I can do. Frequently, these days.

Maybe things will get better over the summer. Maybe we just need some time away from each other. I'll send a few owls, start things out slow and easy, try to build back up what I smashed so carelessly. Maybe I'll come visit him at school next year, on one of the Hogsmeade trips, and things will be different. That gaunt look will be gone from his face, he'll be healthy again, the light back in his eyes, that radiant, gentle smile back on his lips. I won't see the strands of silver that have begun to show, threading through his goldbrown hair.

And if he's there with Snape, I'll just swallow all those poisonous words that fester inside me, and I'll nod quietly and say, "If it makes you happy, Remus." If it makes him happy.

I'm sorry, Remus.

* * * * *

He never was quite the same after that night. I knew he wouldn't be, but I don't think anyone could predict the kind of metamorphosis he went through. There was the period of mourning, of course. He wouldn't talk to anyone, and spent all of his time in the library. I saw him there once, staring down at a book in front of him. His eyes darted back and forth as though he were reading, but he stayed on that same page for well over a quarter of an hour.

Gavin was beside himself with guilt. I'll give him credit, though, he never told Severus about what I had done. Too ashamed, maybe. I have to admit, even I felt the pangs of conscience from time to time. But Gavin doesn't know Severus like I do; he was afraid his friend was broken. I know better. Nothing can break Severus. Nothing.

And so he began to speak again, if only in icy tones, and allowed others in his presence once more. And so I tried to draw him into me once more, into my circle, into my control. That was when I discovered how deep the changes had rung.

"No, Lucius. Not again." He stared at me with glittering black eyes, reflecting my face back at me, giving nothing.

"No what, Severus? What are you talking about?"

"No one ever gets the keys to me again. Least of all you."

"I still don't understand-"

"No one."

It was all right there. What had been missing from our relationship, the odd imbalance of power. And if he would never give me the keys to him…well, it was on that day that I began giving him my heart, piece by piece. I could have never predicted the way he would go, this new side of him to emerge. Like seeing only the tip of an iceberg, marveling at the pretty blue white, unaware of the depths of the monstrous piece of ice, just waiting to break everything apart. But I'm glad. So glad for doing what I did, bringing him back to me this way, stronger, better, colder.

I saw the Lupin boy try to talk to him once, on the way from some class or other. He was in such agony, I wanted to laugh, but I said nothing, remained silent and unnoticed.

"Severus," he said, "Please, please talk to me. Listen to me for one moment!"

Severus simply walked past him, never looked at him, as though he weren't there. The Gryffindor ran after him, like some pathetic mongrel begging for scraps. "Please!" he yapped, "It was a spell, you have to believe me!" And my love stopped, turned and really looked at the other boy, his eyes narrowed.

"Don't make excuses," he answered, his voice lovely and dead and glacial. "Don't you dare make excuses."

And he walked away then, leaving Lupin sobbing in his wake. It was exquisite. I keep that memory locked away in a special place. I'll take it out again many years from now, and look at it, and it will make me smile in a way nothing else can.

Severus won't be back to Hogwarts next year. That will be the last exchange between them. He's accepted my invitation to finish out his schooling at Durmstrang. My father knows the headmaster, and they would be delighted to gain such a talented student. Perhaps he'll do post graduate work there, and then he'll come to me, come back, and take me in hand.

I can hardly wait.


End file.
